


Rest Easy

by akoa



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: ...you know what that means, Angst, Canon Universe, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Swearing, set after chapter 115
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 19:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20318491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akoa/pseuds/akoa
Summary: Mikasa is tired. Levi is stubborn.-(Mikasa and Levi speak for the first time since his attack.)





	Rest Easy

It was the sound of fists hitting leather that woke Mikasa from her slumber. It's a sound so distinct, it's unusual to think it's anything else. Sure, maybe it's because she's been so accustomed to it, or maybe it's because she's used to hearing such a sound especially at this time of night.

_Pack, pack, thwack._

She's half awake and groggy when she looks towards the clock on her nightstand: 2 in the morning. Just as she thought.

Mikasa sighs heavily to herself. He's probably up because he knows Hange has a habit of leaving in the middle of the night, and God knows they wouldn't have let him out of bed for even a second.

_Pack, pack._

Slowly, she brings herself up from her bed, propping an elbow on the hard mattress beneath her. She squints through the darkness when she looks out her beside window, knowing that she probably won't be able to see him from her angle, but she looks anyways.

She's right, of course. The only sight she's able to see is lit up by the moon. It's the same trees, gravel path and burnt pile of firewood she's seen for the last thirteen days and counting. But again, she's seen it all before.

What she doesn't see is fists hitting leather.

_Pack, pack, thwack._

But she sure as hell hears it.

Begrudgingly, she wraps her blanket around her body, slowly making her way down the corridor. She doesn't even bother turning the lights on as she walks, passing his room on the way. She doesn't need to open the door to know he's not in there.

Where he should be.

Making her way down the steps, she feels a slight flush of cold air hit her face as she enters the living area, and wraps her blanket tightly around her. _It's the house's fault for such thin walls_, she thinks to herself, but she can't complain. It's most likely because her sleepwear only consists of loose shorts and a cami, which of course, is courtesy of the Queen.

She truly is a wonderful human being, Historia. According to Hange, they've been here for about three days before Mikasa arrived, and a week and a half of worrying has passed since then. Historia had this place built especially for situations like these-- a safehouse, hidden from the rest of the world. Here, it’s calm. Quiet. Peaceful.

Despite the circumstances, Mikasa quite likes it here.

When she reaches the front door, she's still surprised to behold the sight in front of her.

Thirteen days ago, Mikasa was sure there was no way Levi could have survived in the state he was in. His face was gashed open. His finger was severed clean through. His body was covered in blood and wounds. Hange, too, believed that it was only a matter of time before her Captain reached his end.

But even so, Hange stood by him each day, and Mikasa stood by both of them each night (because at least at night, they could rest and she could worry). When she would find herself by his doorway, looking after the two, her eyes would never fail to find the slight rise and fall of her Captain's chest, hoping and praying that it would stay that way.

And by a miracle, it did.

To imagine that same person, her Captain, bedridden with wounds from head to toe, standing before her, not only alive but also working the shit out of his body while he's still healing? It's incredible.

But she's not sure if she feels the need to tell him that right about now. Instead, she's feeling a little pissed.

Standing on the veranda, she watches as he hits the makeshift punching bag dangling before him with his bare fists. Even from her distance, she can tell his form, albeit almost perfect, is strained. She leans her body against the wooden railing, elbows propped up and chin in her hand. If he notices she's there, he doesn't acknowledge her.

"It's late," she finally calls out to him. Her voice comes out smaller than she thought it would, but she realizes then that it's because those words were the first words she's spoken to him ever since he's awoken.

A series of punches. This time, she takes a breath and tries again.

"Do you know what time it is?" Her voice this time is rough but loud, now just thick with sleep. This time she's certain he hears her because he hesitates a little before hitting the bag once more.

"Late?" he answers back. She can only see half of his face, but she can hear a hint of a smirk in his voice. So the bastard heard her the first time, huh.

She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "What are you doing out here?"

Levi stops punching and the brown leather sack swings lamely. She watches him warily.

"I'm making tea," he says. "What the hell does it look like I'm doing?"

Maybe it's the tone of his voice, or maybe it's the cool air that makes Mikasa shiver. She chooses to believe it's the latter.

"What I mean," she starts, stepping off the veranda, "is why aren't you resting?"

She leans her side against the post to get a better look at his body. His sweat is making his tank stick to his back and his shorts to his thighs. She can already see the effects of the tension that he's putting on his wounds, but more than that, she can see the stress in the way he moves.

"I've been in bed for weeks, Ackerman," he says, jabbing the sack again. "I think I've rested enough."

She sighs. _And he calls me stubborn._

"You just got out of a coma, sir," she says, as if he needs a reminder. "You need to rest. Your body isn't healed yet."

He doesn't miss a beat when he responds. "I think I know what my own body is capable of."

Without thinking, she scoffs. "Well, did you think your body was capable enough to dodge a thunder spear?"

She regrets her words the second it comes out of her mouth.

The punching sack launches off its hinges, ripping apart and soiling to the ground.

"You don't have to fucking tell me that."

The orange light on the veranda flickers. The moonlight hides his face.

For what seemed like an eternity, a blanket of silence envelops the two from their distance. The balance, the quiet, the calm before the storm.

And when the storm hits, it hits hard. Finally, their eyes meet. It's the first time since the attack since she's seen his face-- alive and awake. His right eye laces his blank stare with malice, but as intimidating as it is, she notices there's something different. It's not the usual glare he'd given to her in the past, and although she can't pinpoint it, there's something off about it. Yes, the contact isn't new, but it feels like a whole other person is standing before her.

If she's honest, it's a bit unsettling.

He's the one to break it first. He walks over to clean his mess (as he always does) and Mikasa's gaze continues to follow. Slowly, he reaches down to grab the sack, but he hisses slightly as he bends over.

She starts toward him. "Captain-"

"Don't," he says, holding a hand out to stop her. He doesn't look at her when he speaks. "I can pick up a fucking sack, Ackerman. I'm fine." Steadily, he grabs the bag of sand and throws it to the side.

As if ignoring her, he walks past her and begins to stretch elsewhere under the night sky. He starts off with his usual routine-- no, _their_ usual routine-- stretching from side to side, legs, back, and shoulders. He pulls an arm across his chest, extending it out.

"Where's Hange?" he asks. His back is turned away from her, and he switches his arms. Mikasa notices it's his bad hand.

"Out surveying," she says, but hesitates before speaking again. "It's... better to do it at night."

The words left unspoken are easily implied.

_When no one can see us. _

_See we're alive. _

_See _you're _alive._

The air cools to a crisp breeze as Levi starts to warm up. She feels a chill run up her body, reminding her of the reason she came out here in the first place. With the tiredness catching up to her, she pulls the blanket around her once more and attempts to try again. She knows arguing with him will get them nowhere, but despite herself, Mikasa worries.

"Captain, you're straining yourself. You just woke up," she tries to reason. "You can't be training this hard when your body is still-"

But he cuts her off before she can speak another word. "Spar with me."

She stares blankly at him. "You can't be serious."

"I am," he says, and she can tell now-- he's completely serious.

"Are you out of your mind?" she practically yells. "You're injured, and your wounds still fresh," she continues. "Don't be difficult, just come with me." She holds out a hand. _A small gesture_, she thinks, _a helping hand_.

But she knows him better than that. In this situation, she knows that's not how he's interpreting it.

_It's a surrender_, he must be thinking. She knows he won't take it.

And again, she's right. Even as he's walking closer to her, she can tell-- he's calculating, thinking, weighing his next move. Even so, she refuses to lower her hand.

"Where's your scarf?" he asks, suddenly.

When she's taken aback, it's visible, and Levi can tell.

"I'm sorry?" are the words she ends up saying, partially because she doesn't know _what _to say. She withdraws her hand.

"Your scarf," he repeats, stopping a foot away from her. He eyes her neck. "What happened to it?"

Her mind floods with memories of the last few weeks and she can't help singling out the ones she wanted to forget the most.

_Mikasa. I've always hated you. _

She clenches her teeth. "It's not relevant."

"Oh?"

She glares at him. He smirks at her.

"Did something happen between you two?"

Her eyes follow him. He circles her.

"Did Jaeger _finally _cut his ties with you?"

Her breath hitches slightly at his name, and despite her trying to conceal it, she can tell by the looks of him, Levi heard it too.

_He's an asshole, sure, but the lengths he's taking to get his way is pitiful._

Regardless, she takes it upon herself to stay calm. Slowly, she takes a breath before speaking. "You really want to fight?"

Levi's eyes give a knowing glare, but Mikasa gives him nothing back. The next thing he knows, Levi gets an arm full of blanket and sees Mikasa stretching herself out. If she's going to fight, she'll fight on her own terms. She might be giving him what he wants, but if it will get him to stop all this training nonsense and get Mikasa back in bed, she'll rough it out with him enough to stop this once and for all.

She walks along the gravel and stands a foot away from him, in the middle of the lawn. She feels the softness of the grass underneath her, cushioning her stance as she bounces on her toes. She doesn't dare take a glance at him as she warms up, but she can feel Levi's stare follow her.

A familiar feeling builds up inside her, and she realizes, it's been a while since she has fought with her Captain. In fact, despite her once tired state a few minutes ago, it's overcome by giddiness. It's the feeling of the strain. The stress. The physicality of it all.

It's exhilarating.

She readies herself-- her form, strong and secure. He follows suit-- his form, lax yet solid. When their eyes find each other, it's enough to spark a war. Ready, Mikasa nods, and Levi nods in turn.

It’s on.

Like lightning, Levi moves first, jutting a fist to her chest. It doesn't connect, however, instead his fist meets her arm as Mikasa dodges and parries her own punch to his side. A sidestep, a pivot, and before they know it, they fall into sync. Levi must feel it too because the energy seems almost palpable. Their steps are languid, their kicks are firm and their fists are methodical. It's as if they were back at base, training for just another expedition. Training to get stronger, better, and worthy of each other.

But the moment ends all too soon.

The more they forget their circumstances, the more they forget the consequences. When an opening appears at Levi's chest, she doesn't hesitate for a second. Levi moves to block her, but it's too late, and she strikes.

Suddenly, Levi cries viciously at the contact and Mikasa steps back immediately, stunned at his voice. He falls on his arms, groaning in pain and clutching his chest. She can't find it within her to move.

Finally, she sees it all. The burns on his neck. The scars on his back. The stitches on his chest. The wounds on his sides.

Mikasa was a fool. They weren't back at base. Hell, they weren't with the Survey Corps. It wasn't midnight on the training grounds, and they weren't fighting like two odds finding an ends with each other on the battlefield.

They were stuck. How could she forget?

The restless pain, the constant worry, the shadow of death.

She was a fool to forget the past thirteen days.

As he begins to stand, Mikasa is quick to his side, helping him balance himself. Without warning, he throws his hands up and Mikasa falls back, forced to release him.

"I'm fine," he says firmly, as he brushes himself off. She stares at him. He avoids her eyes. "Let's go again."

He's already in position, but Mikasa is reasonable. "Captain-"

"Again, Ackerman!" he yells. "And don't you dare refuse. This is an order."

She swallows. It's a no brainer. She should stop this-- stop _him_ before anything gets worse.

But before she can tell him off, or even get in position, he's swinging at her so fast she barely has the chance to move away. "Sir-"

He doesn't stop at her words, his blows becoming fiercer, angrier. Each thrust, punch, and kick holds a purpose-- not just to fight, but to hurt. It's like his fists are burning and her arms are taking its heat.

It's unlike him, she realizes instantly. All she sees is the rawness, the pain, and the struggle. His frustration is heightened, and his anger is pulsing in each attack. Reminded of the way his sleeping body stayed limp on his cot and how Hange sat by his side day by day, she can't bear to see her Captain in this state any longer. Ruining himself. Pushing himself. So Mikasa stops attacking.

But Levi isn’t an idiot.

"_The hell_, Ackerman? What the fuck do you take me for?"

She holds her tongue while keeping her stance as best as she can. She's holding up, but with his brute force and the fact that both of them know she's still lacking when it comes to defence, it proves difficult.

He punches with more power. "Don't fucking mock me."

She grits her teeth through the pain. She can feel her side turning purple. "Sir, I'm not-"

"Then stop treating me like an invalid and fight me as a soldier!"

In one swift move, he kicks with ferocity. Her lack of concentration causes her to lose balance, but Levi doesn't stop. He hooks his foot around her knee and reels it back, locking her joint, and she falls to the ground. Her head hits the grass in an instant.

_Ugh_, she thinks to herself. _Must have forgotten how brutal he can get when he's angry._

Groaning, she tries her best to blink the headache away.

"Get up. We're not done yet," he says, but when she looks up at his form, he’s panting out of his mind. He’s hunched over, clutching his chest, barely holding himself up as he hides his pained expression as best he can. The shirt that clung to his body by sweat is now stained with blood from the stitches she knows she’ll have to do up again. There’s sweat dripping from his face and blood covering his feet and knuckles. Even as she checks herself, her wounds are not nearly as bad as she knows he could’ve made them.

Yet she’s never seen him so disheveled after such a small victory.

So she doesn't listen, only sitting up enough to rest her body on her elbows behind her. "Well, I say we are."

He ignores her. "Again, Ackerman."

This time, she forces her body to take a stand. "No."

"What?" he says, giving her a look of hostility.

With that one look, she decides that it’s about time they ended this. "I said no, Captain. Look at yourself!" she shouts. "After just pinning me once, you can barely stand. Your wounds are bad enough as it is, and you're still going on about sparring again? God, even your stitches are on the verge of breaking," she says finally, and it's like a dam of frustration flows out of her all at once.

He scowls, but she knows he can see it, too-- it's all true. Not even sparing a glance at her, he turns to walk away. She can't hold her tongue any longer. Fuck being her superior. Fuck being his soldier.

She continues after him. "After all that Hange and I did to try and help you, I don’t understand how you find it in you to go out of your way to make things worse for yourself when you don't have to!"

He stops walking. With his back to her, she can't see the look on his face-- it's only the silhouette of his injured body in her sight.

She puts the final nail in her coffin. "I wouldn't have even agreed to do this with you if you weren't so hellbent on trying to prove your worth."

"So what the fuck _am_ I worth, Mikasa?" he shouts at her. "What am I if I'm not Humanity's Strongest?"

The wind slows as time come to a standstill. There's no noise, just the beat of their hearts and the sound of their breaths. Right now, it's just her and her Captain-- no, her and her comrade. Her partner. Her _friend_. All the silence, all the reluctance. The hesitation, the attitude-- it finally comes to her. What can he do? How can he react? How is he supposed to live if he just lives to be strong?

It's like for the first time since she's known him, she finally understands.

"How the hell am I supposed to sit in bed and watch you and Hange cater to me like I'm a fucking dog while Zeke is out doing _God knows what_ and letting our soldiers-- our _friends, _be killed over and over and _fucking over_ again?" his fists are clenched, his voice is shaking. "What am I supposed to do then, huh? I can't just let that happen!"

"It already has," she answers simply, stepping closer.

A flinch. He's pinned, and Mikasa is not backing down. This time, she won't let him run from her words or hide behind his strong front-- she needs to hear the truth, and she knows that he needs to, too.

"And things will get worse," she continues. She hears him inhale sharply.

"So what will happen to you? What will you do then?" she challenges. "Who will you blame it on?"

After a beat of silence, his voice comes out at barely a whisper. "I... I...don't know."

And at his shaky words, his heavy breathing, and the mere fact that he can’t bear to look her in the eye, Mikasa knows that this moment is the first and only time her Captain has said anything like this out loud.

And now, it's her time to play the strongest.

"It's okay to feel," she says. "You're only human, Levi."

And at his name, he finally turns to look at her. The moonlight shines on his face, and it's the saddest and most beautiful sight Mikasa has ever seen. His eyes are glazed over, water threatening to seep through. But before she knows it, he blinks it away, and the water doesn't fall. Decidedly, she raises her hand to his face and slowly, as if he's glass, she rests it on his cheek. He doesn't shy away from the contact, even as her thumb grazes over the scar around his eye and she can feel that, just ever so slightly, he leans into her touch.

They're so close, it's like they're breathing the same air, and looking at his expression now, she can see the bags under his eyes and bruises of her parries and the lines of age around his mouth and nose.

It's a moment they both know will never happen again. There's no awkwardness in their silence. Instead, just for a minute, as two normal people sharing a memory together, they savour it and its sweetness and comfort, knowing that yes, this moment won't last forever, but they’ll take whatever they can get.

So with that in her mind, Mikasa takes a deep breath, breaking away from his eyes and trails her hands to his. Without breaking apart, she turns him around and leads him to the patch of grass where they once stood minutes earlier-- the perfect area to spar. He looks at her confused, as if she's gone crazy, but when she releases his hands, bends her knees, and clenches her hands into fists in front of her, he understands.

He sighs, a smirk on his face as he shakes his head, and follows suit. He nods to her, and she nods back.

And in a flash, they fight once more.

...

He's on the ground faster than he was hoping he'd be, chest up and heaving as Mikasa's knees lock him into place, straddling him. By the looks of the colour of their shoulders, backs, arms, and faces, it looks like they've gone to hell and back. With fists bleeding and heads spinning, Mikasa rises victorious. She's breathing heavily on top of him. Sweat covers their bodies so much so, she's dripping on him.

But looking at her now-- strong, fearless, with pleasant eyes and shining with pride, he can't help but feel thankful for her.

So, he finally lets go.

"I'm tired, Mikasa. I'm so tired."

She smiles. Standing upright, finally giving him enough room to breathe, she holds out a hand to him. She's glowing.

"Then let's rest," Mikasa says.

And this time, he doesn't hesitate for a second, and takes it.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
